Her Blue Flame
by LTPugh
Summary: A choice by Squad 7 keeps the most important person in Selvaria Bles' life alive. What else may change as this firebreak changes the direction of her Blue Flame?


_Hi all, me again. This is another little something I thought up when I was browsing some of my favorite things. There's a decent amount of Valkyria Chronicles writing, but none of it contained what I thought would be the most obvious love story not told. So, this is my attempt to fix that. Hope you enjoy this first part, more coming when I'm able. _

Her Blue Flame Chapter 1

"The hour of your death shall mark the inauguration of our rule. Farewell Selvaria."

It was with these words that one of the most powerful people in Europa was crushed. Her life destroyed as surely as by any bullet, shell or blade.

Radi Jaeger watched as Selvaria collapsed to her knees, tears appearing around the corners of her eyes. Radi had seen many things from Selvaria in the time he had known her, undying loyalty, fierce protectiveness, a firm sense of pride and even on occasion embarrassment. But never once had he seen her cry, not even when she had been wounded such that no other person could have survived. To him, it was just wrong, especially since the one who had made her cry, Prince Maximillian had done it so coldly, so cruelly. He understood the need for royal distance, an Imperial bearing. But to see someone crushed so effortlessly, so emotionlessly, one who had given everything that they possibly could, it made him crumble that much more inside.

But there was little he could do, even as Maximillian strode away from Selvaria, towards him.

"Can't say that I'm impressed your Grace. Making a lady cry?" Less than impressed was an understatement, but there was only so much leeway Radi had with Maximillian, even as the soon to be only survivor of his Drei Stern.

"This is simply one of a number of scenarios we'd planned for since before Naggiar. If her prowess as a Valkyria is insufficient, Selvaria's uses quickly narrow down to one alone." Maximillian spoke with the same cold tone he had used on Selvaria, his words surely carrying to her even as he spoke like she was no longer in the room.

"Hmph," Jaeger couldn't help himself. He had always known the Prince was a cold bastard, but now, when the chips were down and things were going against him, Jaeger saw how truly cold he was. But he still had a duty to do. "Anyway, there's a messenger here for you straight from castle Randgriz."

Maximillian glanced at Jaeger. "So there is. Let him wait. I have no time for simple messengers now. We are set to commence Operation Steel Scythe. Jaeger, prepare to return back east."

Jaegers eyes opened at this. "What?! Then it's…the Marmota's finished?!" Radi was shocked, the Marmota was a highly experimental vehicle, last he had heard it was going to be at least a few more weeks before it would be ready. But clearly something had galvanized the Empire into completing it ahead of schedule.

"It is. Word has come that it has completed its trial run. The Gallians are hasty to assume victory. We shall see them gutted yet." Jaeger couldn't help but notice the bare hint of satisfaction that crept into Maximillian's voice, an eagerness that crept out from behind his bare façade. Jaeger understood fighting, he was good at it no doubt. But he had never been eager to simply kill or destroy his enemy for the sake of it like Maximillian or Gregor.

As Maximillian strode away, Jaeger held his tongue, fearful that he might say something he would regret. With the Marmota ready, there was little need for Selvaria's sacrifice, it was nothing more than Maximillian's desire to see all wiped out before him that necessitated her loss. It was even more senseless than before.

Glancing back towards the still kneeling, still trembling Valkyria…no, she was a woman now, no different than his wife back home, Jaeger felt regret, sadness, a myriad of things that he could neither reconcile nor fix.

"I'm sorry," he said, words ringing true, but carrying the hollowness of one unable to do anything for the other. Striding out of the room, he hit upon an idea, one that was probably the only salvation he could hope to offer the woman. But it would still be a longshot, one that needed to come from within herself. Strides lengthening as he strode down the corridor, Radi Jaeger prepared to risk it all on a gamble once again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Johann Oswald Eisen, better known as Oswald the Iron to most, sprinted through the halls of the captured Gallian citadel, ignoring the pain in his side, fellow soldiers and their shouted curses as he ran to his general's side. Despite being critically wounded in the fight for the industrial city of Fouzen several weeks earlier, Oswald had survived and pulled through on luck, stubbornness, lots of ragnaid and for one other reason, which he kept close to his heart. The day when he would be taken her might eventually come, he knew that all too well, but it was not one that he would let come willingly.

So when General Jaeger had come to him and told him that General Bles needed him immediately, he had almost sprinted out the door despite his still sore body before the man could finish giving him the message. General Jaeger had grabbed his arm before he could though, forcing him to stop and look him in the eye.

"She's already given it once," he had told him, "Make sure she doesn't give it again."

Oswald was unsure as to what exactly his General had given before, but he knew that if she needed him, there was only one place that he could be and that was by her side. Climbing the last set of stairs to the war room, his now well trained mind noted the lack of guards, meaning that Prince Maximillian had left. Dashing the last few yards to the door, he nearly skidded past it as he tried to stop, his armor clanking slightly as he bruised himself against the frame.

Catching his breath for only a second, Oswald opened the door and strode inside.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Selvaria Bles trembled and cried as her world burned around her with a bright blue flame. She barely knew where she was, much less how much time had passed since Prince Maximillian, His Grace, her love, had told her so cruelly, so mercilessly to end her own life for his glory. Selvaria normally would have had no qualms giving her life for him. But in this way, how he had said it, how she had to do it…

She hadn't moved, probably wouldn't have moved for quite a bit of time more had someone not opened the door. As she heard it open hastily, she almost panicked. She was not in any state to be viewed by her troops, especially any of the officers that might conceivably be coming up here.

"General! General, sir, are you alright!?" she heard a familiar voice call, rapid footsteps approaching her from the entrance.

That voice…it was a brief respite for her in that sea of blue flame, a rock to cling onto as she drowned in her sorrow.

She knew that voice, had heard those words before. Even as she felt someone reach out, touch her shoulder with a warm hand, she relaxed as she remembered the voice and its owner. Eisen. Johann Oswald Eisen. She couldn't help but smile just a tiny bit inside of herself at the memories. He had been so scared the first time he had met her, back before the first battle for Ghirlandio, back before her defeat, before everything had gone wrong. Such a timid little mouse she had found, but one with a lions heart inside, as she had discovered just shortly afterwards.

The initial assault had gone swimmingly, her men holding off the Gallian counter-attack while she and Oswald had breached the perimeter on the other side, forcing them to withdraw. But then he'd collapsed from exhaustion and terror like a new recruit. She'd let him recover in her tent for a little before going out on the final clean up sweep. But then that pig of a Gallian General had broken all human decency and gassed them with chemical Ragnite from the last war.

She'd almost died from the gas and probably would have if not for Oswald. He'd been reckless, running out ahead of the rest of the rescue forces, dodging Gallian fire as he moved between the fallen men of her squad, injecting them with the anti-toxin even as bullets flew by his head. He'd reached her last, shielding her as they'd exchanged words, his hands opening the neck of her uniform so that he could inject her as well. She remembered that, remembered as he spoke comforting words, telling her she was not alone, that he'd always be there, just as she'd told him.

She'd told that to many soldiers, any assigned to her that she could see flagging. Most of them took heart from her words, believing in her powers. A few had even said it back to her, like Oswald had. The funny thing was she was pretty sure he was the first to have actually meant it for her.

He'd proved it too. After the battle, after his Order of the Iron Star, after saving her life, he could've been assigned anywhere, could've requested any posting he wanted. But over the dinner she'd made him, when she had asked again, he'd simply shook his head and said that he'd be by her side, like she wanted him to be. She'd smiled just a little then, glad to have a reliable soldier at her back.

But it had changed, what they shared. At first he had simply been a reliable if occasionally quirky subordinate of hers. Beyond their joint battle at Ghirlandio, they'd had little truly in common. But that was enough, a seed for something more. As the blitz had pushed through Gallia, they'd become a team, a walking nightmare for the Gallian's they'd faced.

But as weeks and then months had gone by, she'd found herself more and more comfortable around him. On the battlefield, in camp, on the march, he'd been by her side every moment she needed him and sometimes when she didn't, just to keep her company. She'd never had that before. Sure, there would be reports and officers regularly, but nobody came to talk to her because they felt like it, it was only because of duty.

But Johann did. He'd never bothered her, never pestered her with questions or inane talk like some of the attempted sycophants had. He was just there, smiling at her when he'd notice her glance to make sure he was still there when on the march, watching over her on the rare times she slept and simply holding conversation with her when it was appropriate. It wouldn't have been much to most people, but to her it was as precious as any gem.

It had gotten to the point where she actually found herself mildly uncomfortable if she didn't know where he was, both on and off the battlefield. The other men had noticed too, taken to calling him "The Witches Pet," due to the amount of time he spent with her. He'd just laughed when she told him about it, like she'd expected him too. She'd never actually told him, but she hated the moniker. She knew what it was like to be treated like an animal, like nothing. She would never treat her worst enemy the way she had been treated in that place. The thought of treating Johann like that…she'd rather slit her own throat. Even after Barious, when she'd unleashed her true power for the first time, he'd simply treated her the same way he always had. Not as a curiosity, not like a General or even a Valkyrur, beyond when it was expected, but simply as a person. It was after that that she'd realized something, something very important.

He was her friend. The only real one she'd ever had. And it was also then that she'd decided she wouldn't let anything take that from her.

Then…Fouzen.

She hadn't wanted to let him go. But she hadn't had anyone else trustworthy enough to send after Barious, too many transfers and new faces. He'd be fine; he'd said with the reassuring voice she'd gotten used to, it was just a message delivery. Just a message delivery, the very thought made her stomach churn. He'd been caught up in the first wave of the Militia's assault on the city, still on his way to see Gregor. Five rounds; he'd taken five rounds through his armor, one of which had almost hit his carotid artery. The Gallians had left him for dead, being in a hurry as they were. It was only as the last remnants of the garrison had been running that they'd found him, three quarters dead, pale as a ghost and hanging on only because he'd somehow managed to use the extra Ragnaid he'd always carried for her since switching to the frontlines..

He shouldn't have made it. He almost hadn't, the surgeons hadn't even wanted to operate on him when they'd brought him in three days later. Too far gone they'd said. She'd told them exactly how for she would go and precisely where they would go if they didn't do their very best to save him. She was pretty sure one of them had shat himself as she did so, glowing blue with the flame of the Valkyrur, but she hadn't cared. She'd just wanted Oswald alive and back by her side.

He'd made it. He'd made it by the skin of his teeth, but between his stubborn refusal to die and the doctors doing their best to help him, he'd made a recovery so miraculous that the doctors had nearly decided her Valkyrur powers had rubbed off on him. Still, it had taken him nearly a week to wake up, with her visiting as often as was practical between her duties and meeting with Jaeger and His Grace. She remembered how she'd almost cried when she'd seen that smile for the first time after he'd woken, even strained and tired as it was. She'd only held back by the fact that there were others in the room.

She had cried when she got back to her tent. She'd cried tears of happiness for the first time that she could remember. She hadn't realized how deeply she'd come to rely on him, how important he was to her, until he'd nearly died. She'd partly known, but it was only as her tears dropped to the bare ground of her tent that she'd realized that she cared about Johann almost as much as she did His Grace.

The thought scared her. The thought that she might care about, might…might…she couldn't even think it, that she might feel the same about two different men equally scared her a lot. The two men and her feelings for both were so different. Her feelings about and the actions of His Grace was like a pillar of flame, burning brightly with an intensity that would undoubtedly end in the burning of whatever was in their path. While Johann…Johann and what she felt around him were much different. They were merely warm, not blazing, more comfortable and easy to be around, like a fire on a cold winter's night. What did that mean? What did she really feel about His Grace? Was her whole life a lie?

She had not managed an answer that night or any of the nights since, the only thing she had managed to find in herself was an unwillingness to let either side of her feelings go, up until Naggiar, up until her defeat.

The battle had been going well; victory was in sight despite some setbacks. The incompetence of the Gallian army's high command had helped significantly no doubt, but it was her contributions that had been turning the tide decisively. Then the other, the Gallian Valkyria had shown herself.

Her defeat had been a horrendous blow to Imperial morale, she knew this. In the end it proved enough to allow the Gallians to break their lines and push them back to here, Ghirlandio. But what it had also shaken was His Grace's belief in her. It had shaken his mask, allowing her to see what she had seen pointed at so many others pointed at her. It was the gaze of one looking at an object with which they believed carried little value, not even worth the time to pretend that the owner of the gaze cared about it, much less that they believed it was worthy of being treated as a person.

That was what scared her now. The possibility that he had never cared for her, had never thought of her as a person. That she had spent her entire adult life working towards the goal of a man who saw her as no better than the people who had tortured her in that facility. That was what had caused her to fall so hard, to have her world burn so quickly.

His Grace had abandoned her. There was no way she could lie to herself about that. She felt one side of her demanding that she cast herself into the burning blue flame of his passion. But there was another side, one with a gentle warmth that sat on her shoulder, that offered something else. What it offered she didn't know. Maybe it was just a life raft until the sea of war smashed them both to pieces. Maybe it was just a roundabout way for her to die at His Grace's command. But maybe, just maybe, did the path offer her some form of salvation.

It was as all these thoughts swirled through her head that Selvaria did something that she had never done before. She let go, gave up holding any façade of control, letting herself twist and fall into a waiting shoulder. "Johann…" she said with a sob, the first word she had spoken since her death had been decided muffled to near inaudibility, falling out of her mouth as a wave of emotion hit her, casting her from the rock of safety and into the unknown.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Johann had gotten to know his general rather well in the past few months, living and fighting side by side for weeks on end could do that to a person. But it was still a complete shock to him when she turned with a sob and buried her face in his shoulder. At first he didn't move, he was to shocked. But then his arms moved, wrapping themselves lightly around her as she cried into his shoulder.

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do at that moment besides let her cry. That was all he had ever let himself do, was to be what she needed him to be. Before that had been a soldier, a friend. Now she needed someone that she could show her weak side to, so she could let it all out. So he did. He let her cry, arms holding her loosely despite his desire to sweep her up in his arms and whisper that it was ok, that everything would be fine. That was not his place, not his role in their relationship. For he knew she loved another and as much as it hurt, he would be what she needed.

It was several minutes before her sobs slowed and finally ceased. But she didn't move away, didn't let go of her grip on him. It was hard for him, he was unsure of what he should do. There had been little physical contact between the two of them during the time he had known her, at least on this level. Equipment checks, ragnaid delivery, pats on the back or shoulder, those were easy, commonplace even. But something like this…

But as she lay there on his shoulder, he made a choice. It was a small one, just a simple move of his arms. But it would have consequences that he would have never guessed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Selvaria felt the small movement of Johann's arms. At first she thought he was going to let go, give her space or perhaps push her away. But the shift brought her closer to him, his arms wrapping her tighter as she continued to lean on his chest and shoulder. It was here that she finally let herself believe that Johann wouldn't let go, wouldn't cast her aside like His Grace had because she had lost.

She felt herself calm as she was embraced, something which hadn't happened to her for longer than she could remember. It was such a small thing, a hug, just the simple act of putting your arms around someone. And she couldn't remember the last person who had done it to her. Yet he was, Johann was, just like he'd been her only friend. The only one who treated her like a person.

She didn't want to let go. She wanted to be warm and protected like this forever. But she couldn't. There were still things to be done, battles to be fought. But there was yet time, so she let her head rest on his shoulder for a while more, finally speaking.

"I'm not sure I can do it," she said, softly, eyes staring down at the floor, "I'm not sure I can keep going Johann. I can't do it by myself."

"You're not alone General," he replied, "I know I left you alone at Naggiar, but I promise I'll never let it happen again."

Selvaria felt herself snort, the first emotion to make its way through her besides sadness or despair being wry amusement. Johann had not left her alone. In fact, she had caught him arguing with the doctors on whether or not he could rejoin her on the front lines. He hadn't quieted until she made it an order that he listened to them. He had not been happy, not one bit but he had listened.

"You didn't leave me," she said, hand finding a tighter grip on his sleeve, "I ordered you to stay. You've never left me alone Johann."

"And I never will," he said, voice calm and steadying for her, "I promised you that."

There was silence for a few seconds before she spoke again. "If…if we don't stop the Gallians…"

"We will," he said with an absolute certainty that she knew he couldn't feel, "We'll stop them together, just like we always have."

She couldn't help herself, he made it sound so easy, so simple and matter of fact. They would stop the Gallians, that's all there was to it. It was ridiculous, so patently ridiculous that she let the small smile she felt creep onto her face. "I guess that's settled then," she said, still resting on his shoulder, "So should you go tell them that they're already defeated or should I?"

"I'll go," he said back lightheartedly, "You need to look your best for when you take their surrender."

She snorted one more time, before finally pulling herself away and looking Johann in the eyes. "Thank you," she said, taking his hand as they both stood, "Thank you for everything Johann."

"It was my pleasure General," he said, giving her a small salute, "Anytime."

Selvaria managed a small grin for him, before realizing that she still had tear streaks running down her face and that she was unpresentable to most of her troops. They needed to see her as the unflappable woman she had always been, otherwise they really had no hope for victory here, no hope for anything but that final flame…

"Johann I…" she started, before he nodded and saluted again.

"I understand General," he said, "I'll let you freshen up. I can go check the defenses for you in the meantime."

"Thank you," she said, glad to have her must capable subordinate back by her side. "What would I do without you?" she asked her longtime companion.

"I'm not sure ma'am," he said, lightly, "But I'm sure you'd muddle along somehow." With that final statement he saluted once more and headed out to help finish preparations. But even as he went, Selvaria couldn't help but think that Johann was wrong, that without him, she wouldn't be going anywhere.


End file.
